Alternate Threads
by poestheblackcat
Summary: AU Lindsey McDonald carved out a new identity for himself as a retrieval specialist after Angel's finale, while Eliot Spencer remained in Damien Moreau's service. Thus, it was Lindsey who was recruited by Victor Dubenich in the pilot of Leverage instead of Eliot. And so begins this story... NOT a "McDonald Boys" story.
1. Prologue: Warp

Summary: AU Lindsey McDonald carved out a new identity for himself as a retrieval specialist after _Angel's_ finale, while Eliot Spencer remained in Damien Moreau's service. Thus, it was Lindsey who was recruited by Victor Dubenich in the pilot of _Leverage_ instead of Eliot. And so begins this story...

**READ THIS BEFORE CONTINUING:** I mentioned in the summary that Lindsey made a new identity for himself. That's who "Milton Perry" is, okay? Just so you're not going, "Who the heck is he?" An explanation for the name is at the end of this chapter. Eliot appears in the next chapter. Keep in mind that it was Lindsey who started working with the Leverage team, not Eliot, okay? He's never met the crew.

**WARNING:** Deathfic.

I gave this story the title of "Alternate Threads" (and the chapters weaving terms) to remind readers that this is an alternate universe from the show _Leverage_...and to remind myself as well, I suppose. Because I'm forgetful like that, hehe.

Written for comment-fic at LJ. Prompt: Leverage, Eliot/Moreau, What if Eliot never left Moreau's side, and the Leverage team & some other hitter (feel free to crossover) have to go up against them both?

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**Alternate Threads**

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**Prologue: Warp **

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There's a lot that the Leverage team knows about their hitter, Milton Perry.

He's a southern boy, as made obvious by the drawling accent, cowboy boots, and his penchant for flannel button-downs and large silver belt buckles.

Another thing: There's a startling intellect hiding behind the long hair and brawn. Nate should know. He came _so_ close to catching Milton numerous times, but never quite managed it.

He's not military (probably), but he sure can fight, especially with a knife in hand. Better than most government agents. He is one of the best in his field, after all. But he doesn't like guns. At all.

He can cook like a chef at a five-star restaurant. They found this out during the job with the mafia wedding and the ugly bridesmaid dresses.

He can also sing. Parker discovered this hidden talent while crawling around in his air ducts one night, and _accidentally_ ousted him not long before the job where he had to be the fiddle. _(It was _too_ an accident!)_

He's religious, in a vague, cynical kind of way. Denomination unclear, but certain things he says during the St. Nicholas job make it clear that he is well-versed in his world religions.

Milton has a wry sense of humor, the kind that hides behind those shrewd blue eyes until just the right moment. He has a nice laugh.

Out of the five of them, he's the one to turn to if you want a dirty job done with no questions asked.

He's terrifyingly efficient at his job, almost obsessively good. But then, so are the rest of them. That's how they got to be the best.

Another thing they know about Milton: He is one secretive bastard. There's a lot that they don't know about him.

Family. He doesn't say much about them, but he's mentioned a "Mama" before, and dropped a hint about a brother or a sister or more ("Us kids," he'd said once).

His past is a blank before the mid-2000s. There's nothing that Hardison can find on Milton Perry that dates before 2005, and even after that, there isn't much. Just enough to make it clear that he's dangerous.

Another funny thing - there aren't any photographs of him. Even Parker has a few security camera shots in her digital record. Milton? Nothing. Either he's that good, or he has a very good cleaner on his payroll.

The way he looks at home in a suit and tie when they're on a con makes Sophie think that he had a background a little more on the right side of the tracks before he turned to retrievals. But then again, she's not sure. He could have picked that up working security. However, he does know his designers, so that may mean something. Or maybe not. It could be that he really has dated a lot of models.

Parker finds a box in his closet that she can't pick, no matter how hard she tries. It makes her mad that she can't open it - It's a simple enough lock, and there's definitely something rattling in it, but try as she might, she can't crack it. And Milton knows and is...amused. _That_ makes her furious.

Nate sees things here and there that make him form his own opinion about the hitter's secret past, but he keeps it to himself.

Either way, Milton Perry's true past is nothing like what any of them could ever have imagined.

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References:

Milton Perry - Milton comes from John Milton, the poet who wrote _Paradise Lost. _Also note that "John Milton" is the name of the evil lawyer (who turns out to be Lucifer) in _Devil's Advocate_. Symbolic? Why, yes, of course! This is also in keeping with the "poet name" theme that the Leverage writers have going on (Eliot, Shelley, Walt Whitman...). Perry comes from duh, Perry Mason. Famous fictional lawyer?


	2. Weft

This chapter takes place during "The Big Bang Job." Obviously, it's an AU, so that's why there are both similarities to and differences from the original episode. Imagine that the rest of the series took place more or less as it did in canon, unless I say otherwise.

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**Weft**

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Damien Moreau makes Milton uncomfortable.

That's a fact.

The team thinks that it's a matter of security, since Milton's in charge of the safety of the team. Any danger to the team is his business. And Moreau is the biggest, most dangerous foe they've faced so far.

So no one pays much attention when he slowly and silently starts to freak out over the course of the year leading up to _that day_.

That day, Nate sends Hardison in as a prospective buyer to the five-star hotel where Moreau is staying, with Milton as backup.

Hardison's confident that Milton has his back - The dude is scary. He's all growly and grumpy and violent and _scary. _It doesn't matter that Moreau's head of security is a guy with a rep that's so Chuck Norris-like that it just _has_ to be exaggerated (because seriously? _No one_ can do the thing that people say he did in Damascus), Milton's got his back. And that's aiight with him. He trusts Milton.

So when Milt simply walks up from behind him and says to the guards at the door, "Tell Eliot I'm here," well, that just pisses Hardison off. Because what in the _hell_ is he doing, going off-script like that? And tossing that name around like Eliot Spencer isn't Moreau's right-hand man? Insane.

Well, it works. The men's eyes widen behind their identical dark sunglasses and after a conferring look at each other, one of the men goes off to the side and whispers into his earpiece.

Huh. Guess Milton Perry's rep precedes him, too.

Pretty soon, they're being escorted to a tropical garden full of the heady scents of exotic flowers.

When the guards step back and leave, Hardison gives Milton a piece of his mind. "What the hell you doin', man?

Milton has the nerve to shush him, "Quiet. The walls have ears." Even though his arms are crossed in his usual "at rest" pose, he's tense.

"What are you doing?" Hardison whispers furiously, "This was _not_ the plan!"

The hitter levels a cool look at him. "It got us in, didn't it? You wanna see Damien Moreau, you see Eliot Spencer first. That's how it works."

"What makes you think things haven't changed?" says a voice behind them.

Milton doesn't turn, but Hardison jumps out of his skin and nearly trips trying to locate the speaker.

"Wha- ?" he sputters, when he sees the guy, "How- Who- What?"

Milton ignores him. "I know you. You're old-fashioned, El," he says, finally facing his twin, "Not too fond of change."

Eliot Spencer humphs. "True. How you been, Linny?"

Milton ("Linny"? The hell?) gives him a crooked smile. "Good. You?"

Eliot looks around pointedly at the lavish hotel garden, then down at his well-cut suit, and then back at his brother. "Well enough."

Milton-Linny nods, but the look in his eyes is sad. "So I see."

Hardison finds his voice, "Eliot Spencer is your brother?" he says shrilly, looking from the long-haired hitter to the neatly-shorn chief of security and back, "Eliot Frickin' Spencer is your _twin brother_ an'- an' you never thought you should maybe tell us that?"

Eliot smirks. "Didja hear that? 'Eliot _Frickin'_ Spencer.' I get a 'frickin'' in m' name. Where's yours?"

"Shuddup," Milton scowls. "How much of a difference would knowing this have made, huh?" he asks Hardison.

"Um, a lot?" he replies sarcastically. "Woulda made our job a lot easier."

Milton shakes his head. "Wrong. It makes our job harder."

He looks at his brother, who asks, "And what is your job?"

"You know why we're here," Milton says softly. "You're his head of security. There's no way we flew in under your radar."

Eliot's eyes turn flinty, as hard as his rep. "Yeah, I know." He shakes his head. "Not happenin' on my watch. I made a commitment, an' I intend to keep it."

Milton nods. "I know. But it's worth askin'. Please, El. For me."

Eliot stares. Then he gives a short laugh and looks away. "Always were a manipulative bastard," he grins sardonically, "You're losin' your touch, lil' brother. The answer's still no."

Recognizing that the situation leaves them at an impasse, Milton nods and nudges Hardison to walk away, grabbing his arm and hauling him along when the hacker proves reluctant to move.

After a long moment, Eliot calls his brother's name. "Lindsey. You swear you and your team'll walk away and never come back, I'll make sure you're safe from him. All of you. You have my word."

Milton turns slowly. Locking eyes with Eliot, he says, "I can't promise that. You know he's a bad man, Eliot. You, of all people, should know that. We have to bring him down and I won't rest until I do. Don't make me take you down with him."

Eliot's lips press into a thin line. "Alright then. That's how it is, is it? How about this? I let you walk. For now. If I ever see you again," he says, and leaves it unfinished, letting his eyes speak for him.

Milton lowers his gaze first and turns away, swallowing hard. "Goodbye, Eliot."

"Bye, Lindsey."

Hardison sneaks a look back at Moreau's man as Milton drags him away. The expression on the assassin's face is...sad, yet hardens when he catches the hacker looking.

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	3. Tangle

AN: Whoa, _awesome_ response. Thanks, everybody!

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**Tangle**

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"Milton's brother is Eliot Spencer," Hardison blurts as soon as they're within hearing of the rest of the team at their rendezvous. "Moreau's _head of security_ is Milton's brother, his _twin_ brother!"

"What?"

"Tell them," he snarls at the hitter.

Milton looks around at the rest of the team, whose faces reflect curiosity, confusion, and...betrayal. Betrayed by their protector. He has to look away.

Then he forces himself to meet their gazes again.

"Hardison's right," he says quietly, "Eliot Spencer is my brother."

"Milton Spencer? Or Eliot Perry?" Parker wants to know.

He swallows. "Lindsey McDonald." The name sticks in his throat; he hasn't said it in so long.

"Is that you or your brother?"

"Me."

She tilts her head. "Lindsey's a girl's name," she informs him, as if he didn't already know.

Lindsey presses his lips together, so he won't be tempted to blow up at the little thief. He settles for a seething glare instead. As usual, she either doesn't notice the wrath behind the look, or doesn't care.

Sophie huffs. "You gave me the cold shoulder for conning you, but it's alright for you to do it? Hypocrite much?"

"I was tryin' to protect you," Lindsey growls, "I know exactly the kind of man Damien Moreau really is, and I didn't want you guys getting tangled up in his business. I was trying to protect you."

"And your brother?" Nate.

Lindsey looks at his boss, no, not just his boss, his friend. Or used to be, anyway. Now... "Him, too. You can't blame me for wanting to protect the only family I have left."

"He works for Damien Moreau," Nate says, "He has a reputation of his own. A...dangerous reputation."

"I know," Lindsey says, "But he's my brother. He's a good man, underneath all that."

"He's a killer."

"So am I," Lindsey snarls, not quite truthfully (demon killer, but people...not directly. Indirectly, his hands are even bloodier than Eliot's) because he doesn't like the negative comments about his brother, never has, never will, no matter how bad things get, "But you never had any qualms about working with me. And I'm worse. At least he has _some_ morals."

"Like what? He doesn't kill women and children?" exclaims Sophie incredulously.

Well...there was that time in Yemen. And Serbia. And then the numerous wars in Africa... "He only kills them if they threaten him first."

The team exchanges dubious looks. "How is that having morals?"

Lindsey shrugs. Might as well tell them. The lie's falling apart now. "Compared to me, he has 'em. I used to be a lawyer."

They gape.

"What, you thought I was all brawn and no brain?" Defensive, slightly hurt, though he has no right to be.

"No, of course not," Sophie says, "We knew you were more intelligent than you let on, but...Well, so you were a lawyer, but that's not so bad. I suppose not _every _lawyer is scum."

"I was the muck at the bottom of the pond," he snorts derisively, "I worked for Wolfram and Hart. I was one of the people who hired guys like him to get the job done. If someone's testimony was going to ruin my case, I made sure they disappeared. I was willing to win in any way that I could, scruples and justice be damned. As a result, I had a near-perfect record."

Four jaws drop.

"See? I'm worse."

"Uh- You- "

"But you're not anymore," Parker says, more as a question than a statement, "Right?"

Lindsey shakes his head. "No, I don't work for them anymore. The water got too muddy even for me. But before, one of the accounts I was in charge of was Moreau's. That's partly how I got my brother his job."

He pauses. "When I quit the firm, I put Eliot into a difficult spot. He doesn't owe me anything. Other way around, actually. I made him train me to fight. In secret, so no one would know." He sighs. "And because he's a good man, he did it without a word of complaint, although he was under suspicion himself."

All this while, Hardison has been tapping on his phone, and now he thrusts it angrily at the hitter. "You're lying. Again. Lindsey McDonald doesn't even exist."

Lindsey takes the phone out of Hardison's grip and stares at him a moment. Then he looks down and rapidly types something onto the touch-screen, thumbs flying.

"What are you- " starts Hardison, craning to see what the hitter is doing.

Lindsey hands the phone back to him. "There. A while back, I deleted everything I could find that had anything to do with me, including photos of my brother, and hid everything that I couldn't. That's what's left of it. I had it masked, but I lifted it just now for this phone. It'll last an hour. Should be enough to convince you."

Hardison looks down at the screen then back up at Lindsey. "How- ? Oh, so now you lied about bein' bad at computers, too? Huh? Makin' fun o' me behind my back? Huh, _Milt?"_

Lindsey suddenly looks sheepish. "Sorry. It was part of the persona. Hitters are notorious for not knowing how to use electronic gadgets. Besides, it _was_ a little funny."

Hardison glares at him, but there's little animosity in it.

"Sorry?" the hitter tries again, then casts a look at the rest of his team members.

Parker slips in close to him and gives him a good sniff. "Making sure you're not Milton's alien clone," she explains. She sniffs again. "Still you."

"Crazy," Lindsey mutters with a shake of his shaggy head, but with a small smile flitting around the corners of his mouth.

Sophie harrumphs and says, "At _least_ tell me you had your suits tailor-made. I simply _abhor_ store-bought suits."

The former lawyer blinks. "Of course. Not in the beginning - couldn't afford it, but soon as I could, yeah."

He shares a look with the grifter, a look between two equals. Then he moves on to Nate.

"You were Moreau's lawyer," the mastermind says slowly.

The hitter nods warily. "Yeah. I was."

"Then you know things that could put him in prison. Files, Milton."

Lindsey's gaze falters, then flickers back to meet Nate's hard eyes. "Yes, Nate. I do. Everything I ever did for him, in detail. Every meeting, every transaction, every...order. Everything."

"Then?" Nate questions. "Why sit on it? All this time, you had the means to put him away at your fingertips."

The hitter is silent for a long minute. Then, in a soft, controlled voice, he replies, "Imagine the most awful thing a human can do. Then imagine the mind behind such an act. The individual who could plan and order it as indifferently as one orders a coffee. That's the kind of person I was. Barely human, if even. That's what's in those files. I can't- " He breaks off, composure crumbling. "I couldn't show you."

"What sort of things?"

Oh, Parker.

Lindsey looks at the blond thief. "If Nate truly wants those files, he'll see. But I don't want the rest of you to know. So don't ask. Parker, please don't ask. Because if you do, I'll tell you. I'll tell you everything."

Parker blinks up at the hitter, her hitter, the man who's always been there to catch her when she jumps, and sees how _broken_ he is. She nods. It's her turn to catch him now. Looking at the others, she sees that they're thinking the same thing.

Suddenly, a shrill ringing interrupts their meeting. Nate's phone.

"Yeah?" The expression on Nate's face changes. "Yeah...I'll be there."

He hangs up. "That was the Italian. She wants to meet."

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AN: As you can probably tell, I changed it up quite a lot, but not enough that it's unrecognizable. I couldn't resist the "Don't ask" line. It was so well-delivered that I simply had to put it in. I changed the words a bit, so it's still mine, as mine as fanfic can get, anyway... (I know it's a little awkward, but really, how could I write this scene and not include that line?)

Review Reply to Anon:

You'll really read anything I write? How very flattering! *thinks of the most outrageous ideas*...What's in the box? *snickers at the movie reference* Hmm, you'll find out later..."The Big Bang Job" warehouse gunfight? Yep, coming up soon. I don't want to say much more than that...You "expect" something? Why then, you know that means I have to do something completely different, right? I love doing that, messing with people's expectations. *cackles*...Lindsey, Eliot, I'm rather fond of them both. Lindsey's kind of like a puppy. With extremely sharp teeth, but a puppy nonetheless. Eliot's a little wilder than that...Hardison not catching Eliot's photo - Luckily for me, I wrote this explanation for that part BEFORE you pointed it out. *pumps fist* But good catch. It's actually why I wrote that line in the first chapter, so that people won't be going, "But wouldn't Hardison see Eliot's picture and make the connection?"...I really hope you made it this far, since for one, I'd like to keep surprising you as a reader, and two, if you didn't, I'd be writing to someone who won't read this note. *cries at the possibility of being ignored* Thank you!


	4. Unravel

AN: This is the shortest chapter of the bunch. Sorry!

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**Unravel**

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Nate and Lindsey walk into the warehouse and pause. Lindsey had been adamant that Nate should not go to the meeting alone. And now, it seems like it had been a good call.

They look at each other wordlessly, sensing the _wrongness_ of the place. They're about to turn back and leave when they hear the muffled scream.

Lindsey tears into the center of the warehouse, flying through the zigzagging maze created by the wooden flats stacked up into high, forbidding walls. Arriving at the center, he sees the figure of a struggling woman. She's been tied to the chair and blindfolded. Dark hair drapes over her face, obscuring its features, but Lindsey knows who she is.

The Italian.

She screams again through her gag and thrashes harder when she hears his steps coming towards her. He takes her blindfold and gag off first, so that she can see that he means no harm. Then he starts working on the ropes binding her wrists.

"You," she says, throat working. "You."

He meets her eyes. "Me." Then he points his knife at her throat. "Do not threaten my team ever again. Do not trick us ever again. Understand? You know what I can do to you. I can throw you into the deepest pits of hell and leave you there."

Her bosom heaves as she glances down at the sharp blade and then back up at the cold blue eyes. "Yes," she whispers, "I understand."

Nate arrives then, panting. He looks from the Italian to his hitter, seeing the tension and the knife at the woman's throat. Lindsey flips the knife and goes back to sawing at the ropes, making quick work of it. The Italian meets Nate's eyes, fear and relief clashing in her eyes.

When the ropes are all cut, the hitter helps her up, supporting her when she stumbles on her numb legs. As they make their limping way out of the maze and towards the exit, Lindsey looks up suddenly, hyper-alert.

"Go!" he screams, all but shoving them behind a stack of crates.

A blaze of bullets follows them, embedding themselves in the wood and pinging off of the metal support beams.

Panting, they lean back against the wooden crates, adrenaline pumping and hearts dropping.

Moreau. His men, Eliot's men, are the only obstacle between them and the exit.

"Milton?" Nate says, reverting to the name by which he has known the man for so many years.

Pulled out of his thoughts, the hitter shakes his head grimly. "I can't get you out safely. Not that way. We're trapped. I'm sorry, Nate." He slumps back against the rough wood. Nate can almost see the younger man's world falling to pieces around his ears.

Nate is about to reply, but Lindsey stops him with a harsh look. He pulls a knife out (which Nate won't admit frightens him for a moment), and with silent steps, he slides along the narrow aisle, deadly hand ready to throw the blade.

There's a sudden movement, and the knife sails into the air.

Almost.

Eliot Spencer steps forward, hands up. "Whoa, there. It's only me."

"Dammit, Eliot," his brother snarls, "I coulda killed ya!" Then, with a pause, he asks cautiously, "You here to kill us?"

"If I wanted to kill you, you'd be dead already, ya idiot," Eliot says, with a wry twist of his lips.

"So you were bluffing? Good to know," Lindsey hisses, "By the way, thanks for setting us up, man."

The expression on the assassin's face turns grim. "This wasn't on my orders. I think I got demoted when I let you go. Personal conflicts. You know how it goes."

"You think?" Lindsey's tone is incredulous.

"It ain't like I got a memo that said 'You're fired,'" Eliot grumbles. "He sent me on a job, but somethin' didn't feel right. One of my men was shadowing me, so I cornered him and made him tell me what was happening." The look in his eyes tells them that the interrogation hadn't been a pleasant one. "He said that he'd been sent to kill me, and that there was something going on here. I got here just in time to see you two walkin' into the trap."

"How'd you get in? We can get out that way," Nate says.

"I cleared a way in." The manner in which Eliot replies keeps Nate from asking how he'd done it. "Follow me."

Lindsey walks beside him. "So you're really throwin' your chips in with us?"

"Yeah," Eliot nods, and then suddenly and without warning, throws his brother back against the crates.

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AN: Evil cliffie is evil, mwahaha!


	5. Taut

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**Taut**

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A shot rings out a split second later, barely missing Lindsey, and the brothers bundle Nate and the Italian back in the direction from which they had just come.

Eliot swears. "They must've realized I got in."

"You're bleeding," Lindsey says quietly, putting up a shaking hand to touch his brother's shoulder.

Eliot gives the wound a cool look. "I'll live." He strips off his suit jacket and loosens his tie with short, angry movements. "Damn monkey suit."

Lindsey suddenly grins. "You never did like picture day at school."

Eliot smirks. "Only day out of the entire year when people could tell us apart," he chuckles, then turns serious. "Hey, you still got those files?"

Lindsey nods reluctantly. "Of course."

Eliot pulls out his gun. "Use 'em. Give 'em to her," he says, looking at the Italian. "She knows what to do with 'em. I want you to destroy Moreau, an' do it properly. I'm countin' on ya, Lindsey. Do it." The corners of his eyes crinkle. "Do it for me."

Lindsey presses his lips together. "Manipulative bastard."

"Takes one ta know one."

Lindsey slides close to the edge of the wall separating them from annihilation. He peeks around the corner. "It's a kill box, El. We won't make it out alive."

"You will," Eliot replies, not avoiding his brother's gaze, but not meeting it either.

"_You_ won't," Nate says.

"Maybe, maybe not," Eliot counters gravely. "You do your jobs, and I'll do mine."

"Eliot," Lindsey hisses, "You can't."

"Of course I can, Linny," Eliot smirks, "I'm Eliot Frickin' Spencer."

Lindsey opens his mouth to argue again, but Eliot interrupts. "Go. They won't wait forever."

Lindsey shakes head. "I can tell Nate how to access the files, and we'll get the two of them out. He can take care of Moreau. I'll back you up here."

"No," Eliot says, "No. These are my men. I hand-picked them. They are the best. And I'm the one who knows them all - how they think, how they act, how they move. _I'll_ take them out. You go. Moreau's planning on flying out of the country. San Lorenzo."

"No extradition treaty," Lindsey says grimly. "Still- "

"For once in your life, Linny," Eliot growls, frustrated, "For once in our lives, don't argue. Go. Get out."

"Milton. Lindsey," Nate says, "He's right. They won't wait forever."

"I know that, Nate," Lindsey sighs. "Fine." But the hitter's tone makes it clear that he doesn't like it. At all.

Satisfied, Eliot cocks his gun and walks calmly out into the middle of the warehouse, gun firing. Death rains down on him from all corners of the warehouse, but somehow, the bullets miraculously fail to reach him.

_Damn show-off._

Lindsey mutters an expletive under his breath as he rushes Nate and the woman towards the exit, shielding them from stray bullets with his body.

Once they're outside, Lindsey takes Nate aside and says softly, "I have a box with everything you need. Only give her the discs related to Moreau. Everything else, don't let her get her hands on 'em. I don't trust her."

"Where's the box?"

"Ask Parker. She knows where it is."

"Parker?" Nate asks, taken by surprise.

"Yeah," the hitter says, a small smile curling around his lips, "She found it. It's not hidden in a secret vault or anything like that. But it's safe."

"So she knows?"

Lindsey shakes his head. "No. She doesn't know the password. Can't open the box without it. It's protected."

The way the hitter says it, well, Nate doesn't ask what kind of protection. He has a feeling he doesn't want to know. He has heard odd things about Wolfram and Hart, and from what Lindsey showed Hardison, the former lawyer had been pretty high up in the food chain. "What's the password?"

Lindsey looks away and bites his bottom lip. He steps close to Nate and whispers a woman's name into his ear. When he steps away, he looks as if an enormous weight has been lifted from his soul.

Nate nods, and feels the burden settle onto his own shoulders. "Okay."

"Catch Moreau before he leaves the country. Do everything in your power to stop him," Lindsey says urgently, to both Nate and the Italian. "The files will be useless once he gets to San Lorenzo."

"What about you?" the woman asks.

"I'm going back to help my brother." He turns around and runs back inside the warehouse, where the sound of the gunfight is still going strong.

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AN: The woman's name that is the password to the box (the one from the prologue that Parker couldn't open) is up to you. Darla, Eve (my top choices), Aimee, Lilah, his favorite literary heroine - take your pick.

And come on, you didn't really think that I was going to make Eliot the bad guy, did you? I love Eliot! I'm okay torturing him, but making him a really bad guy is off-limits...unless I find a particularly good _dark_ prompt for it, heh. Killing him, though, is another story. *evil cackle* Or I could kill Lindsey, or Nate, or Parker...


	6. Dye

Just a quick FYI: Eliot's epic gunfight goes exactly the way it did in the episode. It's too awesome to mess with. Easy way out? Maybe, but seriously, I'm not gonna mess with something that epic.

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**Dye**

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The ricocheting of bullets dies down as Lindsey reenters the warehouse. The smells of spilled gasoline and smoke fill the air. The corpses of Moreau's henchmen hang from the stacks of crates. Blood drips off of cooling fingers into the growing puddle of lubricant.

Lindsey creeps past the stacks of crates on silent feet until he hears a voice.

"I always knew you'd betray him," the man says in a Scottish accent.

Lindsey clenches his teeth. Chapman. Ambitious little bastard. He transforms the pocketknife in his hand into a long sword. The others don't know that he can do this, but it doesn't matter now. None of it matters. Soon, they'll know. Soon, they'll know him for the monster he was, the monster he is.

"I didn't betray him," Eliot replies evenly, "You betrayed me."

Lindsey peers around the corner just in time to see the backs of Chapman's shoulders tense up in preparation to shoot his brother, who is just standing there in front of him with his guns lowered instead of poised to shoot.

_Idiot!_

He looks at the sword in his hand and pauses. Then he makes his choice.

Taking a noiseless step, he lunges forward and stabs Moreau's goon in the back. Eliot dives into a roll as the gun goes off. The end of the sword drips gore down the front of Chapman's shirt, and the man takes his last gurgling breath.

"What the hell took you so long?" gripes Eliot as he gets to his feet with a groan.

"Why'd you let him get the upper hand?" Lindsey grumbles back.

Eliot shrugs his uninjured shoulder and throws his guns aside. "Ran outta bullets. Not that I was gonna tell him that. Besides, I heard you comin'. Thought maybe he mighta, too, so it woulda been enough of a distraction for me to kill him. But no, he was too busy congratulating himself to notice. Damned unprofessional."

"What do you mean, you heard me?" Lindsey scowls, "You couldn't have. I didn't make a sound."

Eliot motions to the sword, which Lindsey now dislodges from Chapman's corpse with a sick _schlock_ noise. "I heard _that._ It makes a very distinctive sound."

Lindsey rolls his eyes and tries to shake off the thought that he has just killed a man, a human, in cold blood. But it was for his brother. For Eliot...anything. Even after everything, in the end, there's nothing he wouldn't do for his brother. "Whatever you say, man. Let's go."

Eliot gives him a knowing look _(You weren't supposed to _kill_ him, ya idiot - that's _my_ job)_ but otherwise keeps quiet. There'll be time to make up for it later.

With that, they run out of the warehouse and through the connecting private airport to where Nate and the Italian woman are trying to keep Moreau from boarding the plane, but failing. Moreau has the gun trained on Nate, but he swings to aim at the brothers as they burst out of the building.

"No!" shouts Lindsey, "Moreau!"

At the same time, Eliot bellows, "You got one shot, Damien!"

The gun moves an inch so that it's pointed at the former head of security, then with a sardonic smile, Moreau twitches it almost nonchalantly to the right and pulls the trigger.

Eliot shoves Lindsey aside, and the brothers tumble to the ground, rolling and rolling with the force of their forward movement.

"Eliot," Lindsey says shakily, then lifts a hand to see the red smeared on it. "El."

"Linny," Eliot gasps, and tries to staunch the blood streaming from the wound.

Faced with two choices - run to the fallen brothers or get to Moreau - Nate makes a split-second decision and rushes towards Eliot and Lindsey. As he does so, he catches Moreau's eye as the criminal mastermind boards his plane with a jaunty step.

"_I will find you. And you will pay,"_ he vows silently. _"You'll pay for this. You'll pay for everything."_

Eliot crouches over Lindsey, his white shirt now bunched over the hole in his brother's chest. Blood leaks out with every rattling breath the hitter takes. Lung.

"Nate," Lindsey rasps, blood gurgling in his throat, "Nate." His head lolls towards his friend and a crimson-stained hand reaches out for him.

"I'm here," Nate says, and takes the shaking hand, "I'm here." The mysterious scar around Lindsey's wrist glistens under the red blood.

Behind him, he can hear the Italian calling for medical help. Not 911. Faster. Better.

"C-confession. Killed. Killed a man today, Nate."

The whispered words take him by surprise for a moment. "I'm not a priest, Mil- Lindsey," he replies, squeezing the hitter's hand. Still, when their gazes lock, the hitter sees absolution in his friend's wet eyes.

"You're not dyin'," Eliot growls, pushing harder on the wound, eliciting a moan from his brother. More blood bubbles past Lindsey's lips.

"Liar," Lindsey gasps when he catches enough breath to speak, "Always bad liar." The expression on his face is almost fond as he puts his left hand over his brother's.

"Not dyin', not today," Eliot repeats as though through a lump in his throat. "Who's the expert on bullet wounds here, Linds? Me or you? Stop wastin' your breath."

Lindsey looks at him. "It's okay, El. Gonna...be okay. Get Mo- " He chokes, the tendons in his neck standing out for a moment before going slack. His eyelids flutter closed over rolling eyes.

"No!" Eliot slaps Lindsey's cheek with his blood-slicked hand, "Hey, Lindsey! Stay with me! Don't you dare die on me! Don't do this to me, you sonofabitch! Don't _do_ this to me."

Lindsey's limp hand slips down from his chest and flops onto the ground next to his brother's knee as Eliot continues to try to shake him awake, then begins pounding on the motionless chest, his efforts increasing in force as his panic mounts.

Finally, Eliot pulls the lifeless body into his arms and screams a wordless lament at the heavens. He howls his _angergriefguiltdenialanguish _(_**alonealonealoneforeverI'msorryI'msosorry)**_ as he cradles his brother to his chest and rocks.

Tears run unchecked down Nate's face as he watches the most feared man in the criminal underworld grieve for his brother. As close as the team has become, as close as Lindsey and Nate had become, the ties of blood, of brotherhood, seem to be stronger than any other relationship the dead man had had in his life. Even the Italian woman looks affected as she makes another call to cancel the last order and make another.

Eventually, the anguished moans quiet, and the last McDonald raises his head.

"I want him to pay," he whispers hoarsely, "He'll pay for this."

Nate nods. "He'll pay. We'll make sure of it."

"When you get him, he's mine." A shudder goes down Nate's spine at the sight of the man's eyes. They're not empty, but the caged animal fury in them is far worse. To let _that_ loose upon the world...

"No," he replies, and before the other man's mouth can curl in a feral snarl, he continues, "Your brother wouldn't have wanted that. You know that. The man I knew and respected wouldn't have wanted that. Not from you, and not from us."

Eliot holds his brother close and runs his fingers through the long hair with surprising tenderness. After a subdued, pregnant pause, he nods. "He was a better man than I am," he says softly into the shaggy mane, so softly that Nate has to lean in to hear the words, "You're right, Ford. He wouldn't have wanted that. The right thing. That's what he woulda wanted. That's what he was always goin' on about."

Then, with a resolve that Nate cannot help but admire, Eliot reins in his grief and his anger. When he next looks up, Nate sees that this is indeed the man who had trained Lindsey McDonald, formerly their hitter, Milton Perry, and taught him to approach each job with an almost military collectedness.

"Do you need an inside man?" Eliot asks with an astonishingly composed calm, "I know his weaknesses. I know his strengths. His secrets. I know how to take him down. I have contacts who can assist." He wants Nate's help, but he won't beg. Not yet.

"Welcome to the team, Eliot."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

AN: I warned you. I did, at the beginning of the first chapter. I just didn't remind you because I wanted it to be a surprise, not that any of you forgot, huh? And for those of you who weren't prepared for it this chapter, well, look at the chapter title! Wasn't that warning enough? No? Okay, so now I'll apologize. Sorry for killing Lindsey, who in this story is actually a hybrid of the Eliot we know on _Leverage_ and the Lindsey character from _Angel_. So I feel like I really killed Eliot, too. At least I didn't cut off at the part where it's still ambiguous as to which brother got hit...*ducks rotten tomatoes*

Edit 7/7/12: The site deleted that italicized bit right before the bolded part the first time I posted this chapter. The "nonsense word" was too long. Grr. This site...


	7. Epilogue: Cut

AN: I'm not going to mess around with the next episode either. Again, I'm taking the easy way out. Sorry if you feel cheated, but the original is too good and too _much_ to change. So this is _after_ the con_. _Last chapter.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

**Epilogue: Cut**

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

LINDSEY MCDONALD

BELOVED BROTHER AND FRIEND

OCT. 5, 1974 - DEC. 19, 2010

They stand before the gravestone, their heads bowed. All of them are present, Nate, Sophie, Parker, and Hardison, even Maggie. Father Paul had conducted the service at Nate's request and with Eliot's permission.

Eliot stands apart from the others, hands clasped behind him at parade rest, still as a statue. He has retained his tight hold on his emotions since the day he locked them all away, but there's a brittleness to his stance, as if the slightest touch might shatter the armor.

Tara is there, too. She makes the first move and walks towards Eliot.

"Spencer."

Pale eyes meet hers, and Eliot shifts from his military stance to a more civilian one. "Cole."

"I made a few calls, pulled some strings," she says in an undertone, her words for his ears only, "His contract has been nullified."

Eliot stares. "Thank you."

That's all he can say. "A few calls" and "pulled some strings" are too little to describe what it would have taken to achieve such a feat as getting a Wolfram and Hart contract canceled, perpetuity clause and all.

Tara smiles, and puts a hand on his arm. "I liked him. He was a good guy. He deserves to rest."

"I shouldn't ask how you did it, should I?" Eliot asks with the slightest hint of amusement.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Spencer," Tara replies, deadpan, then winks. She turns to Sophie, who has come close to them and has been waiting for them to finish their conversation.

They hug. "You know what? I think I'll miss his cooking the most," Tara laments when they pull apart.

"He could brew the most perfect pot of tea," Sophie sighs, "Now I'll have to train Nate, or God forbid, Hardison."

Eliot looks from one grifter to the other and shakes his head. He can see from the redness in their eyes and the tear tracks in their makeup that they're trying to keep things from getting too dismal, but still. _Tea?_

Behind them, the hacker and the blonde thief are arguing about whether their deceased hitter is now a ghost or not. Hardison insists that while he had been a ninja in life, "my brutha Milt" is not and cannot logically be a ghost, while Parker is adamant that she saw him shadowing her on one of her rooftop "walks."

Again, Eliot is reduced to staring at the bizarreness of his brother's friends. Who in the hell talks about that kind of thing at a _funeral?_

Parker catches the look Alien Clone Milton is giving her and glares back at him. "I'm not that crazy," she says, huffing, "I _saw_ him!" Then she starts muttering about how she is not "twenty pounds of crazy in a five pound bag" because she weighs exactly 113.42 pounds.

Eliot snorts and turns away to let the pair get back to their flirting. Actually, he wouldn't put it past his brother to figure out a way to keep an eye on his team and protect them in any way he still can; undead, ghost, spirit, whatever - rules be damned.

"Eliot." And now the mastermind.

"Ford."

Nate holds a wooden box out to him. "I think you should have this. It contained some...personal items as well as his professional files."

Eliot takes it. He knows this box. It had belonged to their father, and his father before him. He runs his thumb over the hand-carved surface, darkened and polished from frequent handling over time. Sentimental bastard.

"Do you know the password?" Nate asks.

There is no alcohol on his breath. The others had given the mastermind sharp looks when he had reached for the bottle, but in the end, the glass of amber liquid had shattered against the wall. This had happened numerous times in the week since Lindsey's death, and each time, Eliot thinks, it was the memory of his brother that kept the man sober. Either that, or Nate's been seeing his ghost, too. Eliot can almost swear that sometimes he can see a flickering at the edge of his vision that disappears when he looks directly at it.

Eliot shakes his head. "No. But knowing him, I can probably guess at what it is." He tilts the box and feels its contents shift inside.

"What are you going to do now?" They had done this Moreau job together, but the issue of what would happen after hadn't come up. "As I understand it, you're unemployed at the moment."

Eliot shrugs. "S.H.I.E.L.D's come sniffin' around a few times. Might finally join them."

"Or you could join us."

Eliot looks back at his brother's headstone and reads the inscription.

BELOVED BROTHER AND FRIEND

Lindsey had been Eliot's only brother, his only sibling to reach adulthood, but Lindsey had been more than a friend to his team. They had all meant each word in the engraved phrase.

Lindsey's gone, and Eliot's all alone now. But maybe he doesn't have to be. Maybe this team, this family his brother has made, will accept him in the same way they had accepted Lindsey. Maybe he'll remember how to care about people other than himself and Lindsey again. Maybe he'll be able to find redemption for the multitude of sins on his soul in the same way Lindsey had.

Maybe.

He shouldn't want it - he's always been a lone wolf - but all of a sudden, he feels a familiar nudge at the back of his mind, and he finds himself replying, "Sure, why not?"

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

AN: Oct. 5 is when _Angel_ first aired in 1999. The "birth" of Lindsey McDonald, so to speak. "The Big Bang Job" episode of _Leverage_ aired on Dec. 12, 2010.

S.H.I.E.L.D - I watched _The Avengers_. They would totally want Eliot Spencer, am I right? So dangerous that you want him on your side. (Thanks to irma66 for pointing out the right spelling - Apparently, I can't spell when I'm typing in all caps with periods in between. Either that or I rely on my spellcheck waaay too much.)

Writing choices: I was going to end this on a slightly humorous note ("As he accepts Nate's offer, a sudden, strong wind blows a wet leaf smack-dab into his face, and he hears his brother laugh, bright and free."), but decided against it. However, if you like, that last line can be the real ending.


End file.
